Somebody Save Me
by A Grayer Shade of Gray
Summary: Since my other Mary fic bit the dust when I hit writer's block, this is a second shot. Mary is taking on a coperate faction, now, and biting for the top Dog, someone who is well known... Read and Review
1. Somebody Save Me

The phone rang, echoing in the darkness of Mary's scarcely furnished apartment. She rolled over onto her side, facing the telephone with it's angry, blinking light. She glared. Typhoid Mary Walker was not amused at the thought of being woken up at this hour in the morning. Tossing back onto her other side, back to the blinking, ringing contraption, she crammed her head between two pillows and tried to ignore the ringing until it went away.

It did not go away.

'Who the Hell calls at this hour in the fucking morning..." she growled in her mind. Of course, she already knew who was on the other end. Her hand snaked out behind her, grasping the cold, plastic receiver and lifting it off the cradle. She held it to her ear and waited, her eyes half closed still.

"Mary? Baby? Is that you?" the desperate voice of a man came through in a hushed whisper. It was Mark Stein, a CEO at Stark Enterprises, or at least he was at the moment. It was uncertain how long that would last, since his loving wife and mother of his three children left him after finding out about an affair he was having with a certain Miss Walker. 

"Baby, I need you. I can't stop thinking about you," he continued, his voice getting more and more desperate as Typhoid rolled onto her back, yawning. She covered the mouthpiece of the phone so he couldn't hear her. "I can't eat. I can't sleep..."

'Neither can I with you calling at all hellish hours,' she thought bitterly to herself. She eyed the clock: 2:30 am.

"Baby? Are you there?" he asked desperately. He had lost everything for her, and now she wasn't talking. His heart raced as he waited for her sweet, silky voice. A voice that would make all his worries melt away.

"Yes, baby. I need you too," she said, her voice filled with a fake emotion which she had never actually felt; love. Who needs love? Was her motto. She had sex. She had money. She had power. That was all she needed. Only fools need love.

"Meet me tonight, please..." his voice shook with an insecurity. Nothing of the bravado and male arrogance he once held. She held that now, just as she held a large chunk of what he was worth.

However, Mary knew what was going to happen. Sooner or later the gravy train would end, and she would have to find herself a new toy, but she had already closed her sights in on one. Stein's boss. Anthony Stark himself. What a catch he would be. Almost as good as the Daredevil. She curled a lock of red hair in around her finger as she watched the ceiling.

"It's late, honey..." she cooed back, a cautious tone that wouldn't let on any of her anticipation for that final moment. Oh, it would be so sweet. 'Just play your part right, Marcus, and I'll play mine...' she thought to herself.

"I don't care. I'll come pick you up. Please. I give you anything," he was near tears.

'Pathetic,' she thought, her tongue licking along her lips savagely. 'And you'll give me the only thing you have left, you penny less bastard... Your life...' 

"Alright, sweet heart," she rolled onto her side once more. "The usual place... This time I'll have a special surprise waiting for you..." Her voice was so sweet. So sugary. It was hard to imagine that it was the voice of a killer, and tonight, Mark Stein would meet that killer.

He was oblivious. He was unaware of Typhoid. All he knew about her is that she was an innocent young woman, only a year older than his eldest daughter. He had taken her, moulded her, into the perfect woman, or at least he thought he had. In his mind, she was his toy. He owned her, body, mind and soul. Of course, that wasn't so. She had him just where she wanted him, by the balls...

  
  


To Be Continued In... Welcome To the Jungle... 


	2. Welcome to the Jungle

The cold air whipped against her legs, pulling the long coat away from her pale flesh. The fishnets added little warmth to her costume, neither did the leather corset or the knee high boots. Mark was late, as always. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. 

He knew where to meet her. It was always the same place. The Dark Shade Motel, room 13. This was where he had always brought her, and where she had turned him into a slave by letting him think she was his. 

She took her coat off, feeling him near the door. He entered without knocking. The door was unlocked. 

"Oh baby..." he said, interrupted as the coat fell from her bare shoulders. 

Typhoid turned to him, a wicked smile on her ruby red lips. Half her face painted white, her crimson hair falling in braided waves, wildly framing her face. She wore a black, leather corset, a pair of fishnet stockings and a thong that matched the corset. It hugged her hips, curving around her body and disappearing between the perfect cheeks of her round buttocks. A pair of boots clung to her calves, laced up to her knees. Black patent leather, of course. She had to match. Hanging from her hips, her belt dangled, and from that, a pair of foot long blades which glimmered in the light. 

"Baby doll?" Mark was confused. He had never seen her like this. Until she met him, as far as he knew, she only wore pure, white cotton, and was a virgin. Now, he was doubting that. "Is this a game?"

She smirked at him and let a small chuckle moved from her throat as she watched him. "Yes... You could call it that..." she licked her teeth. The tip of her pink tongue moved across the white enamel as she eyed him. She inched towards him, her shoulders and her hips moving with a swift, sultry movement. 

Her movements startled Stein. They were like a cat, a hungry, hunting cat. Completely with predatory glare and a hungry growl. He backed into the door as she licked her lips, inches away from him now. 

"C'mon baby, don't you like me like this?" she purred, licking his neck. Her tongue moving slowly, carefully up over the stubbled skin. It tickled her tongue. "Don't you like me like this?" she pressed closer.

Her hips pressed into his as she took the collar of his blazer and ripped it from his shoulders, pushing it down over his arms in a violent gesture. She let out a growl and licked his neck again, her hands ripping at his shirt, busting the buttons as her other hand took the tie, ripping it from his neck. 

Stein shivered and tried to turn the door knob, but Typhoid was faster. Her hand clamped the deadbolt across and she ripped his half naked body away from the door, tossing him to the bed.

"What's the matter, baby?" she purred, her hips swaying as she sauntered over to him, licking her lips hungrily. "I thought you liked it rough?" 

Typhoid straddled Mark's hips and ground her hips into his, licking her teeth, a sadistic smirk on her red mouth. She moved down, over his body, moving her lips down his skin, teasing him with her tongue. Stein's body arched into her as she undid his belt, pulling his pants and boxers down, revealing his swollen member. She licked her lips and winked at him.

"Don't worry," she purred to him, crawling up his body, raking her nails over his skin. "There's nothing to fear... Well, other than me..." she snapped her teeth in his ear.

  
  


Another tale to continue in...

Wishing That You Love Me Too...


	3. Wishing That You Loved Me Too

Typhoid Mary Walker inhaled deep, the smoke burning as it swarmed in her lungs, swirling around as she smirked. She opened her mouth, her lips forming a perfect 'O'. She puffed out a ring of smoke, watching as it floated through the air in a blue gray haze. She leaned back against the head board, her free hand holding the stiff sheet to her naked chest. Her eyes darted to the corpse beside her and she pushed it out of the bed. 

Blood soaked half of the bed, and Typhoid occupied the other half. She took another drag on her smoke and flicked the ashes into the glass ashtray on the bed side table. She slid from between the sheets, breaking the hazy trails of smoke with her slender curves. Typhoid stubbed the smoke in the glass and ash, knocking around the other butts in the container a little before she stretched her arms over her head, cracking her back. 

Her long, thin form was silhouetted in the dim light. A small golden glow kissed her breasts, the round curve of her rear, her flat stomach and her long legs. She was a specimen of pure physical beauty, and those seductively sweet curves were her greatest weapon. She knew she was hot. She knew she was irresistible. And she knew how to use it all to her advantage. 

She stepped into the shower, watching away the small amounts of blood which had spattered on her bare body, as well as the sickening stench of sex which hung between her legs and all over her body. 

The water caressed her like an old lover. One that had been away for far too long, but had returned. That thinking brought her to thoughts of Daredevil. Matthew Murdock. They were the same man, or should she say the same body. Oh, and what a body.

As she felt the spray push the shampoo from her long crimson locks, Typhoid remembered that hard body. The perfection of the male anatomy, down to the fact that his eyes did not work due to an accident when he was a child. Her heart beat was rising and her cheeks quickly flushed as she caught herself.

She turned off the shower head and stepped out onto the plush, shag-carpet bath mat and sighed. 'Don't think about him,' she scolded herself as she dried off.

The motels towels were harsh against her skin. They always had. Right from the first day when Mark had bound her to the bed with them. They had left marks in her wrist which had, eventually, healed. She licked her lips with the revenge which laid in a bloody mess in the other room. 

She would check out as normal, and leave a handsome tip for the man at the counter, and he would think nothing of cleaning up the mess she had left. Her limited, but highly skilled, psy-powers would make sure of that. 

Typhoid stuffed the fishnets and leather into a back pack, pulling on a pair of tight jeans and a baby t shirt that read: "Heaven doesn't want me and Hell's afraid I'll take over" across the chest. It suited her, she thought. She shrugged on her long, leather trench coat, the machetes hidden in the lining and headed out the door. 

She paid and left the hotel heading towards her next hit, well, after she went shopping. She would need new clothes if she were to successfully infiltrate Stark Enterprises, not to mention that rather posh party that Tony Stark was holding that evening. 

Indeed...

  
  


To be continued in...

I Want You To Want Me


	4. I Want You To Want Me

The silk slipped around her hips as she moved sweetly through the crowds, drawing the attention of all the men. With her hair done, and her make up less than her usual half white, half normal and a smear of red lipstick, she was an amazing creature. Long legs, slender waist with curves in just the right places to bring every eye upon her. She smiled coyly, pushing a piece of unruly hair way from her sparkling green eyes.

Head to toe red. The best way to describe her. And diamonds. Floor length, strapless crimson gown that clung to her torso and loosened around her hips to fall in a cascade of rich red silk. Her hair was wrapped and twisted up into lose curls which spilled from a small, diamond clip at the back of her head. Diamonds also adorned her left wrist in the form of a silver and diamond Tiffany watch, and a tear drop pendant that hung an inch above her cream coloured cleavage, as if to draw even more attention to her chest. Red satin gloves and shoes with heels just enough to make a sound, as she was already 5'10 and did not need to dominate over men here of all places. 

Things like that were better kept in the bed room.

She mingled effortlessly with the crowd, speaking and flirting with men and women alike, accepting offers of drinks, and chances for dinner or tickets to the opera which she would never use and end up scalping to some desperate up and comers in a weeks time. 

It was all a game, and Mary was winning.

Even though her picture was plastered on every paper, every news station, no one seemed to make a connection to tie the wild haired, dread-locked, half white faced murderess and this sweet, gentle debutante with beautiful red hair and a genuinely pale face. 

'No wonder they all end up broke or broken,' she thought to herself as she conversed with the witless riches of New York. She lifted her glass in a toast to something or someone who she cared not to notice and tipped the pure Austrian crystal to her lip and let the sweet taste of the champagne, straight from the very same named province of France, flow down her throat.

Nothing, and no one, could catch her. Not now, and not ever. The only two who could were not here at the moment, and as far as she knew, they were even unaware that she was here, attending a ball in honour of the man who's CEOs she had been laying, destroying and killing for months now. 

She let a small chuckle rise from her throat at the irony of it all. 

'Men are so stupid. I almost feel sorry for them,' she thought taking another sip from her glass and moving away from the group in the ball room and down a less crowded corridor. She used the excuse, "I must powder my nose," to escape from the vultures who wished to pray on her false virginity and chastity. Pathetic.

As she walked, Mary's eyes fell upon a man who's face, or at least his new one, she had recognised from the news of late. She set her champagne flute down on a table beside a pot of cut flowers and moved to him.

Her heels clicked delicately on the floor and her skirt swished as silent as a night along behind her as she moved into his line of view. 

"Hello, Mr. Dent," she said with a warm smile, her hand resting on his forearm. She kept the coy, innocence but still stood out in the group of women who had surrounded him. Only non blond, only one not in blue, and she was taller than the girls even if she had been without heels. 

The other women looked at her with contempt and she merely shook them away with a smoothness that didn't surprise her, but certainly shocked them. 

"My, they certainly didn't do you justice with that photo they had on the news." Her tongue dragged out along her bottom lip, slowly, seductively. Her eyes burnt into his, giving away, to him, her intentions. Or at least what he could perceive as her intentions. "Maybe we'll have to get together, later, and talk... I've always been interested in the law." 

Mary then turned and eyed the blondes with a stare so cold that the sun would shiver, and moved away from the small group without so much as another word. Leaving no room for Harvey to either accept or deny her offer. It was obvious that it was a demand rather than a request. 

Mary went back to her champagne and mindless chit chat with the rich and well off, knowing that Harvey would soon enough approach her. She was, after all, irresistible, one way or another.

  
  


To Be Continued In... 

  
  


I Know, I Feel...


End file.
